Never Meant to Be Part Two
by teecrushfic
Summary: Part Two of a quartet of stories, plus epilogue. Complete. AU, angst, suicide attempt, character death. Not cheery or fluffy. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are meant to be...aren't they? Then why, why, why does it never work out? Ever?


Never Meant to Be – Part II

It has been just over a month since he and Harry had broken up. A month of self-recrimination, loneliness and lots and lots of affairs. Technically, they shouldn't even qualify as an affair…an affair connoted some emotion, maybe even love. An affair is what he'd had with the brunette that he still, despite his best efforts, seemed to see everywhere. Getting coffee in the morning – looking over the headlines at the newsstand – putting change in the parking meters, for fuck's sake! No, what he'd been having is a series of fucks…quick, meaningless lays that are over as soon as Draco decides they are over…which is usually as soon as he's come, thinking of Harry…and then looks down at the man underneath him…who isn't Harry.

His stomach tightens, and the lump in the back of his throat threatens to choke him. He moves off the orgasm-stunned person beneath him and races to the bathroom, desperate to wash the smell and taste of someone else off his skin. He refuses cuddling, a drink, even a good-bye kiss. He claims fatigue, illness or an urgent business call and sees his conquest out onto the street, promising to call…which he won't

He sits on the back steps and lights a cigarette with shaking fingers, and touches the match to the scrap of paper with his pick-up's number on it and watches it quickly burn into a cinder.

And then he wonders just what in the fuck he was doing.

*****************************************************************

Harry isn't fucking anyone.

His hand might be cramped into a permanent fist, his cock might be chafed, but he is at least keeping it to himself.

He knows Draco is dating…his unwitting network sees to it that he knows. They aren't trying to be cruel, he reasons. They just feel he should know. Right?

Right.

He is being rather hotly pursued by a crime-scene reporter, a bit older than him, who seems to see Draco everywhere he went…or so he tells Harry. He stops by in the morning, perch on Harry's desk, waiting till he looks up, then offers him a bite of whatever he's eating, and launches into a story of who he has seen last night, where he had seen them, and what they'd been doing. When Harry was with Draco, his gossip had been amusing, something to make Harry laugh and shake his head. Thank God he wasn't out there.

Now it just makes him sick. Like it is right now.

"And, then, I see this guy who is EVERYWHERE if you know what I mean…and he's all over that blond you used to see, and his tongue is dirty dancing with Malfoy's tonsils and …"

Harry's hand slams down on his desk, making the reporter and everyone else around them, jump…because Harry is not a loud guy, an obnoxious guy….but a rather shy, sweet young man with gorgeous eyes, a quick smile and a sly sense of humor. Passion doesn't seem to be his thing, but here he is, those eyes fiery, tightness around his mouth that no one remembers having seen before, saying "WILL YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT DRACO?"

Jim, the perpetrator in question stands up a bit too quickly, coffee sloshing onto Harry's desk. "Hey, Potter, sorry. Didn't mean to upset you."

His smirk says something else. Harry knows another man who smirks like that and it pisses him off.

"I think you did asshole. I don't want to fucking hear it anymore, so find someone else to regale with your tales of debaucherous nights out, ok? Leave me the fuck alone."

For the rest of the day, he is subjected to stares and whispers, and finally, he can't take it anymore and leaves early to finish up his column at home where it may be lonely, but at least no one gives him shite.

He stops at the corner store for a six-pack of Corona, and as he is pocketing his change, he smells a very distinctive scent and knows whose cologne it is and exactly who is standing behind him. He hastily arranges his face into what he hopes is a neutral expression and turns around.

Draco is looking him over and the longing in his eyes makes Harry's stomach jump.

"Draco."

"Harry."

He waits while Draco pays for his small items and they move over to the window for a falsely casual conversation.

"How are things?"

"Fine. How are things with you?"

"Fine as well."

Both nod and swallow.

Then Draco says "I lied. Things suck without you."

Harry smiles sadly. "I know the feeling."

"Can we have a drink together?"

Harry holds up the beer, but Draco shakes his head. "No, someplace public where we won't just end up shagging because it's private, the couch is soft and we can."

"What makes you think that's what we'd automatically do?"

Draco gives him an "oh, please" look and Harry has to admit that he's right.

"Ok, yeah. I need to get my stuff home first, if you don't mind waiting a few more minutes."

"That's fine."

They leave the store together and Draco slips on his sunglasses, the ones that always make him look (in Harry's opinion) like a dissolute rock singer. They are his favorites.

Damn Draco anyway.

They walk the few blocks to Harry's flat in silence, although a casual observer might notice the matched strides, the same fluid way of moving…developed from long years of fighting each other, fighting alongside each other, and loving each other.

Harry fumbles with his keys and Draco takes his hand to guide the key into the lock. It's almost like licking your finger and laying it against a live electrical socket, and Draco feels his insides quiver at the sensation. He's pretty sure Harry feels it too, because his fingers tighten briefly on Draco's before the tumblers click and the door opens.

Harry's flat is very, well, Harry. It's messy, it's chaotic and it's so familiar that Draco is glad he still has his sunglasses to hide behind.

"Do you still have a cleaning woman?"

Harry laughs. "I do…not that you could tell. I told her not to bother with laundry or trying to tidy my work stuff, so other than washing dishes and cleaning the bathroom, she leaves it alone."

"_From Chaos into Clutter" – The Harry Potter Story._

"_From Obsessive Straightening to Complete Anal-Retention" – The Draco Malfoy Story._

Draco snickers and walks over to the one comfortable chair in the place, dumping a pile of newspapers onto the floor.

"Do make yourself at home, Malfoy."

"Thank you Potter, I shall."

"Sure you don't want a beer?" Harry waves one in front of his face.

"Well," Draco considers. "Since you can't drink Corona out of a glass – that's just a travesty – I guess I can risk it. Thanks."

"I do have clean glasses, you know. You won't catch anything from them."

"Better safe than sorry. Lime?"

"In the fridge."

Since Harry's flat is essentially one big room, the only closed spaces the loo and his bedroom, Draco doesn't have to go far to find the lime. He slices it into quarters, then deftly shoves one down the neck of the bottle, plugs the neck with his thumb and flips the bottle over. Harry does the same. Practically the first thing they ever learned to do together was drink…before the time when they could admit their attachment to each other, they had dealt with the physical issues by first getting thoroughly drunk, then shagging. That way, they reasoned, the sex could be attributed to excessive alcohol consumption and general horniness and no responsibility need be assumed.

Which worked well…up until the night when, caught in an unexpected trap, Harry had seen Draco go down after a curse thrown by Barty Crouch, Jr.…and after killing Crouch, had knelt beside him and shaken and shaken Draco, begging him to wake up, not to leave him because he loved him.

That had pretty well ended the pretense. And after all they'd been through, any solace they could find together seemed a miracle.

Thus the smarmy Slytherin prince and the heroic Gryffindor savior had become as one; and few were left who cared either way what they did with their lives anymore.

Draco remembered seeing a book in a store called "Fractured Fairy Tales…What the Brothers Grimm Never Told You." He had snorted, then reflected that he and Harry were essentially living one of those.

Harry has cleared off the couch and is sitting cross legged on one end of it; Draco has resumed his position in the armchair.

"Salut," they say automatically and each drinks, taking perhaps a larger gulp than absolutely necessary.

"So…."

"So..."

"How's the club scene?" Harry isn't trying to be an ass, but Draco narrows his eyes anyway.

"It sucks. Thanks for asking."

"Why does it suck?"

It never fails to amaze Draco that Harry can ask such questions as though he really wants to know the answer.

"It sucks because that's the nature of a club. It's good for one thing and one thing only."

"And you've been taking good advantage of that one thing."

"Your network is impressive." Draco tries not to sound bitter, and fails.

"Not anymore. I told my best informant to fuck off this morning."

Draco's curious, and Harry is honest, so he asks why.

Harry shifts uncomfortably and hunts through the debris on the coffee table for his cigarettes. "Because he persists in telling me things like whose had their tongue down your throat…and doesn't seem to understand why that information doesn't thrill me the way it does him." He finds them and fishes one out, offering the pack to Draco, who shakes his head.

"He must have a lot to say, then."

"He does." Harry doesn't volunteer more, and Draco realizes that he really doesn't want to hear it, anyway.

There is silence for a bit, while Draco ponders what to say, and Harry wonders why he agreed to this whole encounter anyway.

"I've been slutting around. A lot."

Harry's not used to base honesty from Draco. Draco is a master of dissembling, choosing parts of the truth to reveal, never the whole thing. Harry has gotten used to reading between the lines, but this is something new and he is startled.

"How much is a lot?"

"Pretty much every chance I get."

Now Harry realizes that he likes Draco's former tact a lot better.

"Is it working for you?"

Draco looks at him like he's insane. "Fuck no; it's not working for me!"

"So why are you doing it then?"

"Because when I'm fucking some poor slob, for a moment I'm not lonely. I'm not missing you. I'm not hating myself for being a complete and utter commitment-phobe. I'm not thinking about how I've wrecked my life. It's a short little interlude in time, but it allows me to keep myself sane."

Harry is shocked and tries not to show it. He briefly considers checking Draco for a microchip of some sort, because this man in front of him is sure as hell not the one he left a month ago. This is someone altogether new.

His cock stirs, and he angrily wills it down. This is so not the time. But it persists. It's apparently more susceptible to honesty than the head on his shoulders.

Draco watches him. He can't believe he's told the truth, either, but is smart enough to know when to cut his losses. Lying will get him nowhere except alone in his bed, aching cock in hand, and eyes squeezed shut, willing every memory of Harry's taste, smell and touch to flood over him, so he can pretend. Or else it will get him some dark-haired substitute who he will hate the second it's over and will treat like shit just to get him out of his life a little bit sooner.

"Wow." Harry is at a loss for words. "That's…."

"Honest."

"Yeah."

"I'm still full of surprises, huh?"

"I'd have to say so." He fixes Draco with that solemn gaze that makes Draco realize that never in a million years will he ever understand Harry Potter completely.

And he is very much okay with that.

But Harry, in his turn, shocks him next.

"I've missed you."

Draco feels the heat rise in his cheeks. "I've missed you, too, Harry. More than I can say."

"Then don't even try." Harry finishes his beer and sets down the empty bottle on the table, then comes over and sits down unceremoniously on Draco's lap.

Draco wants to snake his arms around Harry and hold him tight, but he keeps his hands at his sides, fingers clenched under his thighs, digging into his skin.

"Can you trust in us, Draco? Can you trust in me, and if you need more, can you tell me so that we can do something about it together?"

Draco buries his head in Harry's shoulder. "I never needed anything else but you. I was afraid and mistakenly thought that by keeping my options open, I could avoid being hurt. And it wound up hurting way more than if I just talked to you when I was scared."

"You say you never needed anything else but me…but did you want anyone else?" Harry has not touched him yet, other than with legs against legs; he is not reclining, leaning back. He is still rigid.

"Jesus God, no. There is no one else in the world for me but you."

Harry tilts Draco's face up to his. "Still love me?"

Draco's answer is a choked "Yes."

"Good…cause I still love you."

Harry is smiling down at him, his eyes and mouth joined in that joyous grin that Draco dreams of.

"Oh, God, Harry…"

There is no more talk, because Harry's mouth is on his, Harry's hands are twined in his hair, and his body is pressed against Draco's and the heat spreading through him threatens to set the world on fire.

Harry mutters "Bed…now." Draco blindly obeys, standing up, pulling the other with him, and stumbling towards the bedroom. Once there, they fall onto the bed, shoving clothing and books onto the floor, getting down to bare skin and cold sheets.

There is nothing to compare to someone who knows all the places to find with their mouth, the many ways to get there, how long to stay. The month might as well have been a year, for the familiar and the rediscovery meld together until both are at the edge; both are coming, shouting, crying, nails digging into skin and flesh.

And when it's over, Draco doesn't rush to get up. He pulls the one next to him into a tight embrace, not caring that he is slicked with sweat and come and tears. He feels them sink into his pores, and smiles, content.

& & &

It's been three months since then, three months in which each one is mindful of what it was like to be alone. It makes them kinder to the other, more careful to not jump to conclusions when situations seem odd, more tactful in what they say to each other.

It doesn't mean that Harry doesn't wait up – while pretending he just couldn't sleep – when Draco has a business dinner. It doesn't mean that he doesn't fight the urge to open Draco's mobile bill to see if he recognizes any numbers. It doesn't mean that he doesn't bury his face in Draco's shirts when he comes home to make sure that he smells nothing- or no one - else but Draco.

And it doesn't mean that Draco's not aware. And that it doesn't feel like someone has his heart in their fist and squeezes it every time he sees Harry do this.

Harry is lousy at being casual. His coworkers may not think him intense, but they see exactly what he wants them to see and nothing more. Although a few now regard him with something a bit more like respect after the aforementioned Jim made a smarmy comment about prodigal lovers one morning and in the afternoon was sent to the company doctor with a hell of a black eye…that he claimed he got from running into the men's room door; except he'd been nowhere near the men's room when it happened.

It sometimes amuses Harry to watch people watch him. They are Muggles where he works, they have no idea what his name means in certain circles…so he crafts his persona and then plays it out. His public Harry is not so different from the private, but it is an act just the same.

There are three people in the world who know what he is really like. Two will never leave him, but the third one has.

Harry has never considered that he left Draco, even though he was the one who walked out the door. Draco left him the first night he stood at Seely's and watched the parade of flesh and thought about taking one…not home…but taking one to his car, his office, a motel.

Harry spent a month torturing himself with playing out such scenarios. Even his nightmares of Voldemort never matched the ones he had of Draco on top of someone else, screaming _their_ name, begging _them_ for more.

How quickly we forget.

& & &

"Harry."

"Hmph…I'm sleeping. Go 'way." Harry shoved his head back into the pillows and rolls over.

"You have to get up, sunshine. We have company." Draco's voice wass half amused, half annoyed.

"Tell 'em to come back later. Tired. Out late las' night."

"Oh Christ…are you still hung over?"

Harry reluctantly raised his head from the pillows and squinted at Draco. "Probly."

"That's my Harry. A lightweight if ever there was one. Get up, get in the shower, I'll make coffee and you can join Mum and me in the living room when you're ready, ok?"

"Mum? Whose…oh, fuck, you're kidding right?"

Draco sighed. "No. She claims she was in the neighborhood and, well…" he trailed off as Harry fixed him with the glare of death.

"She's _never_ in THIS neighborhood."

"You know that, I know that, she knows that. Come on, don't make me do this all alone."

"**Your** mum."

"Yours too, essentially. And you're her favorite anyway. Please?"

"You SO owe me." Harry sat up, grimacing against the light. "Yuck…I feel like I swallowed a ball of sock lint."

"So did I when she woke me up… we both smoked way too much last night."

"Fuck…we need to quit."

"We will. Today. Later. Right now you need to get up and save me from myself."

"The things I do for you, Malfoy." Harry got out of bed carefully, placing one foot in front of the other gingerly. He'd barely advanced a few steps to the bathroom when the headache kicked in, and he winced.

"I already have the Advil and a big glass of water waiting for you in the bathroom." Draco smiled.

"You're my guy." Harry made it into the bathroom and Draco waited until he heard the toilet flush, the water start, and the sound of the glass shower doors sliding shut before he left the bathroom and headed back to the living room.

His mother was sitting on the couch, legs crossed, reading Harry's latest column, a rant on Britain's support of the US war effort in the Middle East. Harry had shown it to him last night before they left to meet Seamus and his current boyfriend for dinner, calling it a"thoughtful musing on blood for oil and the exhibition of power." Draco had smiled and agreed, prudently deciding to not bring it up again till today…mostly because he really wanted to try that new restaurant and hadn't wanted a pouting boyfriend glaring at him all night.

Narcissa smiled at him as he came back in. "Did you manage to get Sleeping Beauty up?"

"He's up…I don't know how with it he'll be, but he's awake and will at least be clean when he joins us."

"Lovely. I've missed seeing him. Come sit down with me." She patted the sofa cushion next to her. Draco was grateful for his wand being at the ready, for the brief moment between her calling through the floo and actually emerging had allowed him to whisk away the worst of the debris. Harry really WAS a slob.

Draco took the appointed seat, and smiled at his mother. She had survived by fleeing the country and upon her return, gave evidence against essentially her entire social circle. Draco didn't judge her, and had, in fact been secretly glad that his father had been dead by then; he probably would have killed her. He wasn't stupid enough to think that anyone had been noble during that time – save Harry, of course – but he was still thankful it hadn't come down to his parents against each other. Lucius had been crafty and clever…but he wouldn't have bet against Narcissa, either. His own cunning was a perfect mix of theirs.

"So, my darling…how goes everything, now that it's all back to normal?"

Draco almost laughed. _Normal _was not a word she'd ever used to describe his life before. She liked Harry – very much – but still didn't seem to choose to get the fact that they were much more than friends. She HAD gay friends, so she knew damn well what was going on – she'd be blind not to. Yet she persisted in believing that Draco and Harry were friends who occasionally slept together, but that one day they'd each find a nice girl to settle down with.

"Things are good, Mum. We've worked things out, as much as we can, and are pretty much just trying to take it one day at a time, though I am ready to broach the whole house thing to him again. This space is too small, his is miniscule and it's just ridiculous for two grown men to live this way."

"So you two will be housemates? That's lovely…where are you looking?"

"We aren't, yet. And Mum…you do know that we are more than housemates, roommates, whatever. Don't you?"

"You two are dear, dear friends who've been through hell together, sweetheart. Of course I know that."

"Mother…we sleep together. We shag. We have sex, make love, and do the nasty, whatever you want to call it."

"And I have no problem with that. You have plenty of time to get that out of your system." She patted his hand.

Draco closed his eyes, shook his head and lit a cigarette, inhaling gratefully.

"Draco, I really wish you wouldn't. It's so uncouth and so bad for you, they say."

Harry chose that moment to enter the room, looking remarkably none the worse for wear, thought Draco approvingly. Thank God he cleaned up well. He'd even shaved.

"Narcissa…" he smiled warmly and she stood up to hug him. He hugged her back, looking over her shoulder at Draco and raising an eyebrow. "So much for quitting today," he smirked.

"Bugger off, Potter."

"Is that any way to talk when your mother's present? Really Malfoy. Narcissa, do you have coffee, or has Draco left you sitting here thirsty and craving caffeine?"

"I'd love coffee, darling, thank you."

"Still just sugar?" She nodded and smiled her most winsome smile at him. Draco grimaced.

"I'll get it…Mum, you and Harry just relax." He got up and went to the kitchen, purposely bumping Harry as he walked by, hissing "Suck up" in his ear. Harry stuck out his tongue at him in return and sat down next to Narcissa, in Draco's recently vacated spot.

"You look as gorgeous as ever…how did you ever manage to not be constantly hit on by Draco's friends growing up?"

In the kitchen, Draco sighed, but had to smile. Harry was good.

"Oh, I'm such a mother…I'm sure it never crossed their minds, you flatterer. I so wish Draco would have had a friend like you growing up…it would have been like having two wonderful sons."

"No, it still would have been only one, because one of us would have killed the other, "said Draco cheerfully, balancing three cups and saucers along one arm. He managed to set them down without spilling, and Harry pretended to applaud.

"Draco, what a thing to say! You two would have loved each other as much then as now."

Harry tried hard not to smirk and Draco shot him a look. "Mother, we had a dysfunctional household as it was…if Harry and I had been 'loving' each other then like we do now, we would have been breaking all the laws of God and man." He took a sip of coffee.

Ahhhh.

"True," agreed Harry. "Right now we're only breaking the laws of man; God hasn't weighed in yet."

"You two are so clever," she smiled. "My brilliant boys. Harry, Draco tells me you're getting ready to look at houses again? What neighborhood?"

Harry raised both brows this time. "We are?"

Draco shifted in his seat. "_Mother_," he sighed. "I told Mum that I was planning to talk to you again about possibly…_possibly_ looking at houses. I was going to talk to you about it LATER…but someone beat me to the punch."

"I'm sorry, dear, "she said, sounding not at all sorry. "I just thought that since you had talked a bit about it before…well before everything happened…that you were both still on board with the idea. I think it's wise; flats are all well and good but they have no investment value, Draco. It's like throwing your money down a wishing well."

"I know, Mother. I work with money for a living."

"And Harry, I assume this would be a 50-50 partnership, so you would be building some investment capital as well. In fact, you would both do well to perhaps purchase a few properties and rent them. Guaranteed income and the interest from the rent can be claimed as a deduction…since you both insist on paying taxes to this ridiculous Muggle government. Which brings me again to the question of WHERE you will be living? I'm assuming in our part of the city?"

"We talked about Islington," said Harry, apparently deciding to not be annoyed at this point –for which Draco was grateful.

"Islington…" she pursed her lips. "That's a rather…quaint little suburb as I understand it."

"Quaint meaning that its low rent?" Draco thought briefly about not pushing her buttons, then decided she'd asked for it by flooing in at 8 am on a Sunday morning.

She fixed him with a look. "Quaint meaning just that…cute. Not ostentatious. Working class."

"In other words, no place for a Malfoy."

"Drac, she didn't say that." Harry was uncomfortable. He shouldn't have sat between them…it was like being in the crosshairs of a sniper rifle.

"But that's what she meant; isn't it Mother?"

"Draco, I do hate it when you put words in my mouth."

"It's just so easy when they actually appear to be floating over your head."

"More coffee, Narcissa?" Harry sensed a huge row brewing and tried to diffuse it by smiling and offering refreshments.

But it was not to be.

"No thank you, darling. Draco's busy picking a fight with me and it would be rude to deny him the pleasure in his own home. Now, if you really want to know, yes, I do think that area low-rent. I think that with your assets, you are more than able to afford a nice home in a nice area. You come from a very old, very established family and there are certain…standards that should be maintained. Standards I would think you'd wish to maintain."

"Standards that no one except you gives a damn about any more."

"Draco, I know that you never took our status as an important pureblood family seriously…"

"For fuck's sake Mum! I took it WAY too seriously…ask Harry! He knows first hand just how seriously I took being the "Heir of Malfoy Manor" – God knows he took enough shite from pompous little me about it. And I learned the hard way that not only is it bullshit, it's dangerous to think that you are somehow better than everyone else because of a fucking name! Jesus Christ, has none of this sunk into your brain at all?"

Draco was shouting now, and Narcissa looked angry as well, her eyes narrowing in an almost exact impersonation of her son's. She stood up, and gathered her purse. "Apparently not." She turned to Harry. "Harry, darling, it was lovely to see you. Draco," she nodded coolly to her son. "Owl me when you're ready to apologize for being rude and cursing. Goodbye boys." She stepped to the fireplace, stated "Malfoy Manor" and was gone in a multi-colored burst.

"Dramatic exit," observed Harry.

"Fucking drama queen."

"Draco, she has her own opinion and you knew she would. Calm down." Harry stood up and put his arms around Draco, who remained rigid…until Harry started licking the indentation between Draco's jaw and neck; light, wet strokes that made his knees buckle. "Not fair," he gasped. "I'm trying to have a moment here."

Harry immediately stopped and stepped back. "Sorry. Please continue."

"Now I've lost my train of thought, damn you."

"You were calling Narcissa a fucking drama queen," supplied Harry helpfully.

"Right. What the hell is her problem? Has she learned nothing from her life experiences?"

"You know what she's like…why are you letting this get to you so badly?"

Draco sighed and suddenly looked about ten years old. "It matters because all of what we went through seems to mean nothing to her. She ran away from the fighting, I didn't hear from her for a fucking year while she hid…meanwhile the world fell apart and got remade and then she waltzes back in, turns informer, and then acts like nothing is different. And on top of all that, she purposely pretends she doesn't know about us…like you and I are some sort of fad and we'll get over it and then go on to be good little straight boys. And I know she knows better, and it pisses me off. I want to just grab you, pull your pants down and fuck you senseless right in front of her just to see if she'll even blink…" Draco trailed off and rubbed his hand over his face. "Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I do…especially the part about wanting to fuck me senseless in front of her. I like that part."

Harry used his most innocent look and Draco stared at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "I give a whole discourse on the dynamics of war and family…and you latch onto **that **part?"

"It's the only, um, interactive part of your speech. The rest is just a lecture."

'You're a sex maniac, Potter."

"You created a monster, Malfoy. Want to?"

"Amazingly enough, yes and no. Yes as in YES, I always want to with you, and no as in no, I feel like stewing right now."

"Let's stew outside then, ok? I'm feeling a little claustrophobic." Harry grabbed his sweatshirt from the back of the chair and headed for the door to the backyard. Draco followed.

"It's probably all your Transfigured crap looming over you that I had to hide as Madame came down the floo," he grumbled "We really do need a much larger place."

Harry was already out by the picnic table, wiping the dampness off the bench with his sleeve. Draco watched him pat his pockets absently and smirked. "Crap…Don't tell me I'm out."

Draco lit a cigarette and smiled. "Problem Harry?"

"Yes, dammit."

"Here," Draco handed him his pack. Harry made a face. "Ugh. No way. Those things are nasty. I'll have to go to the store later."

"Potter, we're all gonna die sooner or later. This isn't going to make a difference either way."

"Don't tell Hermione that. She's convinced we have a death wish as it is."

"Maybe we do," said Draco, blowing ruminative smoke at the sky.

"This isn't a death wish; it's just a bad habit. If I wanted to die, I could have done so in any number of more creative ways over the years." Harry sat down on the top of the table and propped his chin in his palms. "It's odd to think back on all that now," he said quietly. "It wasn't so long ago that I did wonder every night if I was going to wake up in the morning, and if I did, if it would be in the same place I remembered falling asleep, or would I wake up to see a couple of Death Eaters looming over me, while I couldn't move."

Draco was silent. He remembered too.

"I hated to go to sleep," said Harry. "I'm not sure if I was more afraid that I would wake up, or that I wouldn't. I guess that's why I sleep so much now. Hermione thought it was depression until I managed to explain to her what an absolute miracle it felt like to me to go to sleep in my own bed – or yours, later on – and wake up when I wanted, just because I was hungry or had to piss…instead of because an alarm of some kind was going off in my head, or people were screaming, or because Remus was shaking me, telling me to get up, up, move…and of course, that doesn't even begin to encompass how it feels to wake up because you've cuddled up to me, or because you're kissing me, or doing other things to me. That's the absolute BEST way to wake up."

Draco smiled at him. "I love you…you know that?"

Harry smiled back. "Yeah, I do."

"Do you think…ARE you ready to live with me now? You're not going to humor me and then say no at the last minute?"

_The unspoken word "again" hung over them._

Harry slid off the table and stretched out on the grass at Draco's feet, his sweatshirt pulling up and revealing a band of skin that no matter the time of year or the weather, always seemed golden brown. He didn't know how Harry did it, but it was the single most inviting sight Draco had seen in a very long time. He leaned down and ran a forefinger lightly over the skin, feathering his fingertips through the darker trail of hair that bisected it. Harry shivered at his touch.

"Harry…Answer me, please."

"I'm ready. Let's do it."

Draco's breath caught a little in his throat. "Do you mean that?"

"Absolutely, love….and now I have a question for you….are you finished stewing yet? Because I am really, **really** horny and any minute I'm going to jump you right here in the yard unless you take me inside – now."

Draco laughed, a genuine laugh that not enough people ever got to hear. "Should I carry you in and over the threshold?"

Harry grinned. "Nah, we'll save that for the day we move into our new house. You carry me in the front door, and then I'll carry you into the bedroom. Deal?"

"Absolutely, love."

"Good." Harry jumped up and took Draco's hand. "And afterward, I want you to make me an omelet…with buttered toast and juice. Fresh-squeezed."

"Why me?"

"YOU woke me up out of a perfectly good sleep, the respite of the hung-over…made me make conversation with your mother…and then made me listen to you two scream at each other. I also didn't get to indulge in MY morning addiction, so I'm entitled to a little extra effort from you."

"I'll give you the first three – the last one is your own damn fault."

"Whatever. I'm claiming all four, so ravish me now and feed me later."

"What a pushy bottom."

"What an obnoxious prat."

"You're lucky you're hot and amazing in bed…I'd never put up with such demands otherwise."

"No, YOU'RE lucky that I'm hot, amazing in bed and that I put up with all your bullshit…and you know it."

Draco kissed Harry's palm_. I am…I really am._

& & &

"This isn't bad…see, you _can_ cook when you want to." Harry was making short work of his breakfast, while Draco cooked his own eggs. He turned from the stove and grumbled. "Could you have waited for me, at least?"

"No…too hungry. Besides I waited for you already this morning."

"I was savoring the moment, Potter; sorry if I held up your orgasm. Next time I'll let you selfishly come way before I'm ready and then pout for the rest of the night, ok?"

"Hell no – you're a pain in the ass when you pout. Where's the paper?"

"Unless you brought it in already, still in the box, I expect."

Harry got up to go get it, apparently forgetting that he was still naked. Draco fought the urge to race to the door and lock it, just so Potter would be forced to bang on the door and raise a fuss in the nude. It was a tempting thought; why keep Harry's naked goodness all to himself?

He heard a voice outside and Harry's cheerful return greeting…then an audible "oh fuck!"

Draco started laughing, and had to lean against the counter to support himself.

Harry came storming into the kitchen, his face red, the flush having spread upwards. The sight made Draco laugh harder, though he did manage to gasp "hey look, the flush starts way down, huh?"

"You asshole, Malfoy! Why didn't you say anything? I just nearly gave the next door neighbor a heart attack, and some guy walking his dog whistled at me, then asked me out!"

Draco barely managed to stop giggling long enough to say "well, at least her last memory will be, uh, memorable…and hey, was the guy cute? Maybe a threesome prospect?"

"Oh my God." Harry dropped into his chair and put his head in his hands.

The smoke alarm chose that moment to go off, as the eggs were in flames on the stove. Draco cursed, then cast a quick spell which swiftly dispelled the flames. "So much for MY breakfast," he said, peering into the blackened pan. He turned back to the table, where Harry was still resting his head on his arms. He smiled and reached over to tilt Harry's face up to him. The flush was subsiding a bit, but he still looked horribly embarrassed. "You are just too fucking adorable…with or without clothes. I should have said something, but it was just too good, you know?"

Harry scowled.

"You would have done the exact same thing to me, don't pretend you wouldn't have." Draco helped himself to a bite of Harry's omelet, since his was ruined. It was surprisingly good…and soon gone…as was the second piece of toast and half the juice.

"Um, excuse me? MY breakfast?"

"Sorry. It was pretty good."

"So I remember."

Draco grabbed the paper and finding the real estate section, tore it in half. "You take half, I'll take half. We each set up showings, and that way you can't bitch at me for being domineering."

"I kind of like it when you're domineering." Harry's color had at last returned to normal.

"Good then, you can bottom later. Hand me the phone will you?"

"I'm not bottoming. And no, go get your mobile. I'm not moving." Harry hid the phone under the table and proceeded to start reading listings. Draco snickered and went into the living room to make his calls.

45 minutes later, each had two appointments set up for the following day. They decided to take the day together and scout the neighborhoods, have lunch and generally try and decide if the two of them could live in harmony. Harry demanded a convenience store nearby, while Draco wanted, at the very least, decent Chinese takeaway in the vicinity.

"I seriously pity the realtor who works with us," said Harry. "Or rather, the one who works with you. I'm easy."

"That's what I love most about you. Let's coordinate…" Draco rummaged around in his desk and found a city map. "Alamont Street is two away from Dresden…then Lehigh is over here…doesn't look like too bad of a walk."

"You better be sure," warned Harry, opening a beer. "Cause I am not listening to you whine about how your Italian shoes aren't made for walking."

"These shoes were made for walking…and that's just what I'll do…one of these days these shoes are gonna…"

"Oh God, he's singing," remarked Harry to no one in particular. "And a Muggle song at that. It's BOOTS, by the way."

"Boots, shoes, whatever. And I'll have you know my mother says I have a lovely singing voice." Draco snickered and turned back to the paper.

"Speaking of said mother…have you…"

"No. Let HER stew for a while. Serves her right for being a condescending bitch."

Harry sat down and yawned. "These are the kind of times being an orphan isn't so bad."

Draco looked up. "Do you ever hear from your Aunt at all?"

Harry was taken aback. "Uh, once in a great while. After I sent that Christmas card with both of our names on it she declared me completely deviant and has been mostly silent since then. Why?"

"Don't know. The thought just came to mind."

"I had a dream the other night that Dudley was a cross-dresser."

Draco had just taken a slug of Harry's beer and nearly spit it out. "Jesus!"

"Yeah…and the hell of it was, he didn't look half-bad."

"Potter, I know girls aren't your thing, but really, if you must…go to Camden Market, eye the nubile flesh all around you, then come back and tell me that."

"I still like girls," said Harry reflectively.

Draco's head snapped up. "You do?"

"Uh-huh."

"Like, or LIKE?"

"Is there a difference?"

"This is a fuck of a topic to bring up as we prepare to take the next step into domestic bliss." Draco folded his arms across his chest and glared at Harry.

"I didn't say I wanted to shag them…just that I liked them." Harry's tone was defensive, and he couldn't imagine why he'd even brought the subject up. He knew better.

_He thought_.

"Which girls do you like, then?"

_Don't answer, Potter, you ass._

"There's a girl at work, Leah…she's nice. And Karen in accounting…oh, and Lauren at the front desk. She's pretty. Kind of Ginny-esque."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Let me think." Draco looked pissed, he thought. He smiled inside. This could be fun. Or not.

"Please do. Take your time. I want to hear all about it."

"Uhm, well; those are the only ones I can think of at the moment."

"So what you're saying is that you go to work every day, ogle the receptionist, make doe eyes at the chick at the water cooler and submit your receipts to some bird in accounting."

Harry smirked. "Do people even say "bird" anymore?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Draco, for fuck's sake…I'm gay…well, bi…I like guys, I love **you**…so I still appreciate the female form; what's the big deal?"

"Would you sleep with a woman now?"

Harry considered while Draco fumed. Then he looked up. "Does it count that you're the girl in this relationship?"

"No."

Harry fidgeted. "Stop staring at me, you tosser. Why are we having this conversation?"

"Because I want to know; if some girl came on to you, and she was attractive, would you sleep with her?"

"I don't know! How the hell am I supposed to answer that? You're blowing this conversation entirely out of proportion." He turned back to his paper, snapping it loudly.

"It's a Yes or No question Potter. Would you?"

Harry tossed the paper down and ran his hands through his hair. "Probably…if I didn't have you…yeah, sure. Why not?"

Draco glared at him, then turned and stalked out the door. Harry sighed and flopped back onto the couch cushions.

Always something.

& & &

After what he considered a decent interval…precisely timed to let the blond stew, rehash the conversation in his mind and eventually come to the conclusion that he was a twonk and was making a mountain out of a molehill…Harry got up and went upstairs. The bedroom door wasn't locked – a good sign – and it was silent within.

He turned the knob and quietly pushed the door open.

Draco wasn't there.

Mystified, Harry searched the house; no Draco. What the fuck?

He hadn't left via either of the doors, he thought…but he had heard no crack of apparition, so he must have.

Frowning, he left the house and walked around it.

Shaking his head, he walked down to the corner store, bought his cigarettes and came back. Still no Draco.

Fuck him, then. Let him go and be a shit.

Harry did some half-hearted work, but his heart wasn't in it. Even a cheery email from Hermione asking if they could get together soon didn't do anything for his mood. He finally gave up and sat on the couch, feet up, smoking in the darkening room.

He woke with a start some hours later, hearing footsteps in the hall. Hastily he sat up, looking around. Thank God he'd put out the last cigarette before falling asleep; he could have burned the house down. Jesus.

He heard voices in the hall, just before the overhead light flooded the room and he winced against the onslaught. A half-dressed woman, looking bleary and satisfied was staring at him. Harry stared back in total confusion.

"Who's that?" She demanded of the man behind her, who, to his credit, was mostly dressed.

"Fuck that," said Harry, standing up. "Who the fuck is THIS?"

"A new friend," said Draco shortly. Seeing Harry rumpled from sleep and obviously worried…as the expression on his face and the full ashtray on the coffee table attested…he knew, suddenly, with a sick feeling in his stomach that he had made a mistake.

.

"This is my roommate, Harry, Christine," Draco couldn't look at Harry any more and stared just to his right, at the calendar on the wall, where "Shop for Harry's Birthday" was still written across the top in large red letters.

"Roommate?" Harry's voice was incredulous.

"Oh, I thought you lived alone, silly boy. Guess we'll need to put a tie on the door, won't we Dracy? Although he IS cute…." She smiled suggestively and Harry fought the urge to smack her.

Considering the only other women he'd ever wanted to hit were fat Aunt Marge and Bellatrix Lestrange, that was going some.

"Don't bother…I'll leave you two alone. Wouldn't want to cramp Dracy's style," said Harry, his voice dripping with fake sweetness and hoarse from sleep and too many cigarettes. "After all, I'm simply a roommate." He walked past them into the hall and grabbed his jacket off the hook.

"Harry…" Draco was in the hall, reaching for his arm. Harry jerked it away and reached for the doorknob. "Harry, look, wait…"

Harry paused and swallowed the bile rising in him; then turned to face the blond. "You could have said 'that hurt.' You could have said 'let's talk about this.' But no…God fucking forbid we communicate like adults. You had to prove a point, didn't you?"

"No…I don't know. YOU started all this!"

"We were having a conversation! You asked me a question. I answered!"

"You said if a woman came on to you and you liked her, you'd fuck her!"

Harry felt the blood rushing to his head, making his eyes swim. "But I ALSO said that would never happen as long as I had you, because I love you and am faithful to you!"

Faithful. The word slammed into him like a physical blow.

What was the one thing Draco couldn't be?

Blindly he turned and left, leaving Draco behind.

Faithful.

~ End second part

23


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